"Y-ye a-aap k-kya..., (W-what a-are y-you..)" I abruptly shut up as I saw him giving me a hard look through the mirror. Lowering my eyes, I tried my very best to ignore the fact that a man was seeing and touching me in such an exposed state, but tha...
As soon as I settled into the Land Cruiser, memories flooded my brain as I looked around at the interior. (Refer to the first chapter to know why the inside of a land Cruiser is giving her such memories)
A few minutes ago:
As the car finally stopped in front of McDonalds, I was just about to open the door when I heard him call me. Not wanting to face the product of the sin I had just committed a while ago, I slammed the door shut on his face and rushed inside the restaurant. After the Maulvi had declared us as husband and wife and left, I immediately told Suleiman to take me back. I was worried that Mansha and Bilal would get there before I would and I was in no mood to come up with an excuse. The severity of the situation dawned on me as I realised that I was now a married woman; someone's wife. I may have spent most of my life living and studying abroad, but deep down I was still a very conservative woman. I knew the importance of marriage and its value in our religion. But what about my parents? My brother? Will they so easily be able to overlook the fact that I am now the wife of a man who might possibly be a criminal?
"Hoori Api? Startled, I looked up to find Bilal giving me a quizzical look, indicating that I had completely zoned out. I just excused myself saying its jetlag and started the car.
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2 weeks later:
"Aala, (It is a title I use for my own aunt - referring to my mother's sister), apko kisi cheez mein maadat ki zarurat hai kya? (Aunty, do you need help with anything?)" I asked Aala, Bilal and Mansha's mother and also my Khala (Mother's sister), as I entered the kitchen and looked around. It smelled heavenly in here.
"Nahi beta, tum iss sub ki fikr na karo mai kar loon gi. Tum bus mujhe ye batao ke name register karwalia tum ne? (No child, don't worry about all this, I'll handle it. You just tell me, did you get your name registered?" She asked while continuing to add more and more spices to her legendary chicken biryani (A famous Pakistani rice dish).I replied with a yes and was about to go and try to help her when Mansha burst inside looking straight at me with narrowed eyes.
"Ap abhi tak tayyar hi nahi huein!?!? Mehmen aane hi wale hoonge! Jaldi sey jaen aur kuch acha sa pehnay, (You're still not ready yet!?!? The guests will be arriving soon, quickly go and put on something beautiful) I want you to leave a good first impression on my friend. Haye Allah, she's so excited to meet you! And I'm sure you'll love her just as much as I do once you meet her, so with that said, hurry up and get ready!" She grabbed my hand and practically pushed me towards my room. Only when she was certain I'd picked out "good" clothes and was going to get ready did she finally leave. I smile thinking what a sweetheart she is.
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As I was giving my face a light touch-up, I heard the doorbell ring. They must be here. And by "they" I mean Usman Uncle and his family, who I vaguely remember meeting from my childhood. My father, Yaqub Chachu and Usman Uncle used to be batch mates back when they were in the army and from what I've heard, my baba (term used for father) once saved Usman Uncle's life by taking a bullet for him. I suppose that's what caused their already strong bond to transform into an indestructible one. Later on, my father retired from the army and started his own business in the UK, my Chachu, as well, started his own business. Usman Uncle, being the son of a Nawab (an extremely rich man of sorts), was forced to take over his father's business as he was the only son. Even though they all went to completely different paths, they are still as close as they used to be. Their children didn't get the same privilege though; namely me and Umar, my brother. Living abroad does have its disadvantages; all I know is that he has one daughter and two sons.
When I heard loud, booming voices coming from downstairs, I quickly packed up what little makeup I'd used and headed for the stairs.
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(Her dress ^^)
As I went downstairs and entered the living room (In Pakistani culture guests are typically taken to the drawing room and close family and friends to the more private and personal areas of the house, so this should give an insight as to how close they really are) the sight in front of me had my eyeballs practically dangling from my eyes.
My husband was here.
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Why hello there! Weren't expecting an update so early? Well, so wasn't I until just a few mins ago hehe :)
Also, I'm trying to be as realistic as I can be with the setting. This story is hugely based on my own experiences, excluding the romance of course, so I can say it's pretty much what you'd normally expect in such situations in real life.
Please, please, please just give me one teeny, tiny comment on whether or not this is going well, because I'm really starting to lose my motivation...but no worries!!! I shall still continue this.
